


Shiro and Keith's Winter's Tale

by WildWolf25



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Hot Springs & Onsen, M/M, Sheith Secret Santa 2018, Trans Keith (Voltron), Winter Festival, because of the onsen there's some non-descriptive nudity but it's not sexual content, the title sounds dumb in English... it's the name of the festival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 12:30:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17224127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildWolf25/pseuds/WildWolf25
Summary: Keith looked out the frosty window at the weakly-shining sun dipping closed to the mountains.  “Are you sure it’s okay to be getting there so late?  It’s already four PM, and it’s dark by five…”“Well, it is a snow lantern festival.”  Shiro chuckled.  “They look prettiest at night.”Keith hummed thoughtfully.  He still didn’t quite understand how one could make a lantern out of snow.  Wouldn’t the candle just melt it?  But he supposed he would find out soon enough.(While visiting Shiro's family, the two of them break off for a bit to enjoy a snow lantern festival and relax at an onsen together)(Written for fcllencngels on tumblr for the Sheith Secret Santa exchange)





	Shiro and Keith's Winter's Tale

**Author's Note:**

> *picks up the Hirosaki Snow Lantern Festival in one hand*  
> *picks up the Towada Winter’s Tale Festival in the other hand*  
> *flips the February calendar back to December, because nothing goes on in December around here*  
>  _*smashes the two festivals together and slaps them down in December* _“Ta-daa”__
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> _Happy Holidays,[Mel](http://fcllencngels.tumblr.com/)! Sorry it's a little bit late. Hope you enjoy it!__

“This is insane.”  Keith muttered, looking up at the wall of snow towering over their car.  It was at least four meters. “Absolutely insane. How is this road not closed?”  

“This is nothing.”  Shiro said easily from the driver’s seat.  “You should see the snow corridor up in the mountains.  That one _does_ get closed for the winter, and then in March and April they take about a month to clear off the road before they open it again.  The snow corridor is about ten meters tall.”

Keith swore quietly.  “That is too much snow.”  

“Maybe for a desert child like you.”  Shiro teased, slowing the car to ease around yet another hairpin turn up the mountain.  “But it’s business as usual around here.”

Keith shook his head and muttered something that sounded like “too much snow…” again.  Having grown up in a desert, Keith had never really experienced a ‘white-Christmas’. His winters were cold and dry, with temperatures mild during the day and dipping toward freezing at night.  Shiro, on the other hand, had grown up visiting his grandparents and extended family in rural northern Japan. He knew snow. He also knew how to drive on snow, in a country that didn’t salt their roads and couldn’t plow them fast enough to keep up with the constant snowfall, so while he trusted Keith to be able to drive on the opposite side of the road, they both agreed Shiro ought to be the one to drive them up into the mountains while Keith marveled at the high walls of snow along the roads and massive icicles like crystalline stalactites from the rocky overhangs.

The two of them were taking a trip to visit Shiro’s family and travel around Japan a bit during the winter, Keith’s first time to Japan.  He had tried to study a few Japanese phrases on the plane ride over, but all his preparation went out the window when Shiro’s relatives greeted him with rapid-fire northern dialect that sounded more like rocks tumbling down a clear mountain stream rather than anything he had prepared for.  He hadn’t a clue what they were saying, or what Shiro said to them in response, but he could get by with just smiling and shaky ‘ _arigatou_ ’s when they pushed more and more food at him.  Everyone was incredibly kind, even if he couldn’t understand much of what was being said.  And it was nice to get to see this new side to Shiro, the more casual and playful side joking around with his cousins and relatives.  That being said, it did feel like striking out on their own was a breath of fresh air after the excitement of visiting family. The two of them rented a car and set off to explore and see the sights.  Even if most of those sights were covered in at least a meter of snow.

The car let out a little chime and the tinny voice of the navigation system chirped out something, the only word Keith recognizing was the name of the town they were heading toward.  “Nearly there, just a couple more kilometers.” Shiro said by way of translation as he turned off the main road and onto a smaller road. Keith thought it looked like a one-way, but he had already been surprised by what was considered a ‘two-way road’ in Japan.  

Keith looked out the frosty window at the weakly-shining sun dipping closed to the mountains.  “Are you sure it’s okay to be getting there so late? It’s already four PM, and it’s dark by five…”  

“Well, it is a snow lantern festival.”  Shiro chuckled. “They look prettiest at night.”  

Keith hummed thoughtfully.  He still didn’t quite understand how one could make a lantern out of snow.  Wouldn’t the candle just melt it? But he supposed he would find out soon enough.  

The tiny lakeside town was surprisingly busy, considering the remoteness and the time of day.  Keith’s experience thus far in rural Japan was that shops tended to close down around five, but here were people bustling up and down the snowy streets and ducking into souvenir shops and tiny restaurants, even though the sun was setting.  With the snow-covered eaves of the houses (sometimes so much that it looked like the houses were completely buried!) and the warm glowing amber light coming from the windows, it looked like something off the front of a Christmas card.

They parked the car in the lot (really just a packed-down plain of snow with lines spray-painted on to mark the spaces) and continued down the path on foot.  Shiro’s hand was warm in Keith’s, even through the layers of their knit gloves, and was a welcome support the couple of times Keith nearly slipped on the hard-packed icy snow.  He would have watched his footing a little more carefully, but his gaze was drawn by the incredible sculptures carved out of snow and lit up with colored lights. There was an enormous, ten foot tall Totoro grinning over an army of little snowmen built and decorated by local elementary school classes, a snow-carved statue of two women holding hands (that Shiro pointed out was a famous sculpture on the shore of the nearby lake), hundreds of lights strung up to create glowing tunnels where couples walked hand in hand, a scale snow-model of a famous castle in the area (complete with candles flickering in little cut-out spaces where the windows were), and even a gargantuan wall of snow at least twenty feet high and fifty feet long, the length of it carved to show a fierce-looking warrior battling a dragon.  In between them all were lanterns placed along the path to bathe the grounds in a warm glow, lanterns that, at first glance, looked much like the ornamental stone lanterns placed in Japanese gardens. Upon drawing closer, though, Keith realized they were carved entirely out of snow that had been packed together and then painstakingly hollowed out under the roof so that a candle could rest inside. Some of them had little panels painted with scenes from mythology to protect the candle from the wind, casting warm red and orange light over the pure white snow. Some were as tall as a person, but others towered well over them.

“This is incredible.”  Keith’s breath left him in a puff of white as he marveled at the sculptures.  “I had no idea people could make such huge things out of snow.”

Shiro chuckled and squeezed his hand.  “Want to grab a drink?” He asked, a mischievous lilt in his voice, but Keith was too distracted to notice.  

“Sure.”  He started toward the row of stalls where vendors were selling grilled meat, squid, and baked yams.  But Shiro shook his head and steered him over to a large, round structure built out of (surprise surprise) snow.  Keith’s eyes widened. “Wait… You can’t be serious…”

Shiro grinned.  “It’s called a kamakura,” he said, lifting the cloth hanging over the door.  “And yes, the whole thing is made out of snow.”

“And there are drinks in there?”  Keith asked.

“There’s an entire bar.”  Shiro ushered him inside and down the few little steps, and Keith’s jaw dropped as he took in the surroundings.  It was narrow, but much bigger inside than it had any right to be, considering the walls, ceiling, and floor were built out of snow.  It was warmer than he expected, too, probably because of the people gathered around the bar sipping drinks and snapping pictures in their downy winter coats and hats.  Far from room temperature, but still much less cold than the outside. Strands of blue and white lights strung up on the wall behind the bar and candles placed in glass cups on the bar itself ( _also_ carved out of snow) lit the interior in a warm, inviting glow despite the chilly air.  

They stood at the bar and ordered their drinks.  Keith ordered a beer, but Shiro had to drive later so he ordered a hot chocolate.  Keith’s drink came in a frosted glass that the bartender had pulled out of a little natural refrigerator cut into the wall of the kamakura, and Shiro’s drink let off curls of steam as it was set on the snow-carved bar.  The ice-cold beer was delicious, but Keith still ended up stealing a sip of Shiro’s hot chocolate to warm up after. The drink-heated warm peck Shiro placed on his cheek helped, too.

After they finished their drinks and left the warmth of the kamakura bar with rosy cheeks, they strolled around the grounds admiring the snow sculptures and watching kids run around in puffy snowsuits towing little plastic sleds as they went up and down the hill off to the side of the festival.  They wandered back over to the massive snow wall where everyone was beginning to gather. Before Keith could ask what they were all waiting for, a streak of light fired off into the air with a sharp _pop_ before exploding into glittering strands of blue and pink light.  The crowd let out appreciative _oooh_ ’s and _aaah_ ’s at the firework display, which cast bright colors across the snow sculptures and seemed to make them glow in the night.  The everchanging bursts of light threw strange shadows dancing across the carved snow, making it look like the warrior and dragon were alive and shifting, gearing up for their battle.  

Shiro snaked an arm around the back of Keith’s waist, only noticeable once he squeezed him through the thick coat.  “Merry Christmas, Keith.” He whispered close to his ear.

Keith smiled and turned to pull Shiro into a kiss, not even caring that they were surrounded by people (they were all watching the fireworks, anyway).  The air was cold, but Shiro’s lips were warm against Keith’s. “Merry Christmas, Shiro.”

*******

After the fireworks were over, the two of them strolled back to their car and left the festival.  Keith had thoroughly enjoyed himself, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t above sticking his icicle fingers over the vents as soon as Shiro turned the car on.  It was _cold_ in the mountains, especially at night.  

They had to drive quite a bit into the mountains to get to the inn they were going to, as most of the inns and hotels in town were booked up for the festival.  

“I hope the onsen is still open when we get there.”  Shiro said, confidently steering the car down a narrow, snow-bumpy road.  “That will feel great after a long day outside.”

“The only onsen I’ve ever seen is in _Spirited Away_.”  Keith said.  “Is it really like that?”  

Shiro laughed.  “I doubt we’ll see any friendly demons or gold-giving No-Faces.  Probably won’t be the grand bathhouses you see in that movie, either.  This inn is really small -- my grandparents know the owner’s sister-in-law or something, you know how old people have all those random connections to people like that.”  He shrugged while Keith snorted in amusement. “Anyway, it’s a really small place, only a handful of rooms, but it’s fun to visit an old traditional inn out in the countryside every now and then.  And supposedly there’s a nice view of the lake and mountains from the onsen.”

“I’m sure the sight will be beautiful, when we get there at nine o’clock at night.”  Keith deadpanned. They probably would have had quite the scenic drive up here, if it wasn’t completely dark.  

“We can see the view tomorrow when it’s light out.”  Shiro sounded undeterred. “Maybe even watch the sunrise from the onsen.  My grandpa suggested that. Very popular with the old folks.”

“Absolutely not.”  Keith said flatly. He was not getting up at the crack of dawn to sit naked in a communal bath with a bunch of old people.  He’d probably just fall asleep again in the water.

“We’ll see.”  Shiro chuckled.  

The inn was indeed very small, but absolutely picturesque with the wooden building and ancient, gnarled trees covered in a healthy dusting of snow (“healthy dusting” in this region meaning “about a foot”).  Little stone lanterns lit with candles guided them through a small garden and up to the front door. Sloped eaves and patched cracks hinted that the building might have been decades, perhaps even a century old, yet it looked well-maintained and clean.  They stepped out of their boots in the entrance while Shiro called out a greeting, and moments later a little old lady who probably came up to Keith’s chest slid open a wood-framed window plated with bottom-heavy, lead-based glass and greeted them with a smile from the cramped but homely reception desk.  

Shiro did most of the talking and listening for the check-in procedures and rules, while Keith did his best to pick out any words he could recognize.   _Sheets… futon_ \-- accompanied by the woman holding up two fingers -- _tea… breakfast… something-hour to something-hour… onsen… towels…_ and a whole lot of sentences ending in what Keith could now recognize as polite verb endings attached to verbs he didn’t quite know the meaning of.  He nodded along and trusted Shiro to give him the run-down on the inn rules later.

They shuffled along after the woman in their borrowed slippers while she guided them through the narrow wooden hallways of the inn and pointed out the garden, the dining area, what looked like a small tatami-floored living room strewn with pillows and a low table, the toilet rooms, the baths, and finally their room.  She told them when the onsen closed, bid them goodnight, and then puttered off down the hall humming cheerily to herself.

Their room was unlike any hotel room Keith had ever seen; there was only a low table in the center of the tatami floor, a lamp hanging over it from the ceiling, a closet, a low shelf along the wall holding a vase of flowers, a small red-painted horse carved out of wood that Keith remembered was a local craft from this region, a scroll bearing a painting of a crane and some calligraphy hanging in the alcove, and two futons already laid out on the tatami on either side of the table.  It was simple, but very nice in its own way. They could just barely see the garden outside their large window, the trees and rocks made smooth and round by a thick layer of pure, untouched snow.

“The onsen closes in a couple of hours, so we still have some time to check it out before bed.”  Shiro set his backpack down beside one of the futons and opened the closet. “We’re lucky; the only other guests staying here tonight are a group of four grandmothers who came up from Akita, and the owner said they seemed to have turned in a while ago, so we’ll likely have the baths to ourselves.”  He picked up a folded yukata and obi belt and handed it to Keith, then got another for himself and started to undress.

Keith tilted his head as he considered the article of clothing in his hands.  He knew what it was, but he had never put one on before. That, and there was the matter of the bath itself…

Keith looked up.  “Which bath should I use?”  He really, _really_ didn’t want to use the women’s bath.  But he also didn’t want to get harassed by some dude in the men’s bath for lacking any particular ‘equipment’ (which he would be unable to hide, if he was completely naked).

“Oh, this place is really old and traditional, so it doesn’t have separate baths.”  Shiro said, pulling his sweater off over his head and ending up with the longer tuft of his hair at the front getting ruffled and staticky.  “That’s why I’m glad the other guests apparently went to bed… lots of old country ladies tend to be weirdly insistent on washing people’s backs for them, which can be awkward if you’re not used to it.”  

Shiro slipped on the loose cotton yukata over his boxers and deftly wrapped the obi around his hips.  Keith hastened to follow suit, sneaking glances over at Shiro to check he was doing it right. Just like a bathrobe, right?  A bathrobe where the belt wasn’t connected, but seemed simple enough…

...Or so he thought.  Shiro finished folding his clothes and setting them on the corner of his futon, then turned to Keith and bit back a surprised laugh.  Keith just sighed in defeat and held out his arms like a poorly-dressed scarecrow. “Help.”

“You’ve basically got it, if you were dressing yourself for your own funeral.”  Shiro explained patiently. He untied the belt and draped it over his arm while he laid the open halves of the yukata over Keith’s chest, opposite how he had done it.  “Left over right. Right over left is how they prepare corpses.”

“Whoops.”  Keith was glad Shiro had caught that embarrassing misstep.  Just as glad as when Shiro had pulled him back by the elbow when Keith almost stepped into his grandmother’s house still wearing his shoes.  There were a lot of little cultural differences that made Keith glad he was travelling with someone who knew the customs better than he.

“And usually women tie the obi on their waist and in a bow.”  Shiro went on, sliding the narrow strip of dark blue cloth around Keith’s hips, lower than he had originally put it.  “Men usually tie it here, in a knot, and tuck the ends in.” He deftly worked the two ends into some kind of triangular knot Keith was unfamiliar with, but vaguely recognized from yukata and kimono in anime.

Keith smiled softly and stretched up on his toes to press a kiss to Shiro’s lips.  “Thanks.” He didn’t mean just for the help with the yukata; it was nice to be reminded that Shiro unquestioningly saw him for who he was, and loved him for _him_ .  Especially when confronted with the undeniable low hum of anxiety he faced from the prospect of being naked in a public bath.  Like any new activity outside his comfort zone, it could be fun, but it could also end up being _very_ not fun, and there was little way to know without actually trying it.  

Shiro returned the smile with one of his own, as if he could hear the words Keith wasn’t saying aloud, and leaned down to kiss him back.  

The two of them grabbed the towel sets provided by the inn and wrapped them around their clean sets of boxers, slipped on their slippers, and headed down the hall to the baths.  The inn was quiet and dimly lit, the other occupants likely asleep already. It was warm inside the bathing rooms, and Keith could already see steam curling up from the pool of water set into the wooden floor.  

The yukata was easier to get off than it was to put on, and they folded them up and set them in a couple of baskets slid into numbered wooden cubbies.  Keith trailed after Shiro as they moved into the next room -- half because he didn’t quite know what he was doing or where he was going, and half just to check out Shiro’s butt (...what?  He had a nice butt, and Keith was only a mortal man). Shiro grabbed a wooden stool and shallow bucket from the stack in the corner, Keith following suit. He mimicked his boyfriend’s movements as he set the stool in front of one of the low showerheads lining the wall and sat down on it, turning on the faucet to let the water fill the bucket.  

“You know, first rule of the onsen is ‘don’t stare’...” Shiro teased, not really sounding bothered.  It wasn’t anything Keith hadn’t seen before, after all.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”  Keith hissed back. He had moved past ‘checking him out’ and onto ‘checking what he was doing’, at this point.  What did he do with the bucket? Which was the soap and which was the shampoo? Which faucet should he use, the movable showerhead or the spigot by his knees?

Shiro laughed.  “Wash off first, rinse off the stool, and then you can enter the bath.”  He looked over his shoulder and leaned back to see around the corner. “Looks like they have an outdoor one too.”  

“Who thought sitting outside naked in the snow in December sounded like a good idea?”  Keith rolled his eyes and squirted some shampoo into his hand.

“Probably someone who got too hot sitting in the onsen.”  Shiro pointed out, before dumping the bucket of water over his own head with a splash.  Keith snorted in amusement.

Once they got soaped up and rinsed off, Shiro made a beeline for the outdoor pool around the corner and behind a glass door, Keith following him curiously.  The pool was mostly ‘inside’ another wooden room, with just one wall open to the outdoors and only a little bit of the pool properly out in the open. Steam rose up from the still, crystal-clear surface of the water and curled in white tendrils over the natural stones that made up the pool.  Flame-lit lamps cast flickering light across the small, walled garden and made the snow almost seem to glow. The dark abyss of the night beyond the reach of the flames was likely a lovely view of the mountains and lake during the day.

Shiro eased himself into the water with a sigh and leaned back against the rocks.  The water was almost too hot, but given the chill of the air, Keith didn’t waste much time at the edge of the pool before sliding in as well.  Once he was actually in the water, though, the cool air on his face felt nice when paired with the soothing heat of the water. It was quiet and peaceful, and Keith could understand why this was such a popular pastime here.  

“So, what do you think?”  Shiro asked after a few minutes, resting his arms on the stone wall to either side of himself.  

Keith hummed, smiling as he sat back against the warm rocks.  “It’s nice. I like it.” The water came up to his chest, lapping at the faded scars running underneath his pecs.  He stretched his arms above his head in the cool air and listened to the quiet _plink plink plink_ as droplets of water ran down his arms and back into the pool.  His skin burned a little in a pleasant way as he slipped his arms back into the water and sank down up to his chin.  Shiro had been right; this was the perfect thing to finish off their day outside in the cold.

Keith glanced over at his boyfriend, who had his eyes closed and head resting back against a stone, looking peaceful.  After checking the doorway to make sure no one had come in while they weren’t looking, Keith slid closer on the stone bench until he could fit himself under Shiro’s outstretched arm.  Shiro let out a quiet hum of acknowledgement and curled his arm around Keith’s shoulders, letting him snuggle up beside him under the water. Probably not typical onsen-etiquette, but they were alone.

They relaxed together in comfortable silence for a while longer, enjoying the quiet intimacy of being close in this state.  Eventually, the little waterfall in the corner of the pool trickled to a stop and they figured it was close to closing time.  The cold air bit at their skin as they hurried from the pool back to the warmth inside, where they rinsed off at the showers, returned their stools and buckets, and made their way back to the locker room.  They dried off and dressed in their yukata again (“so which way makes me look like the walking dead?” “...Keith, don’t say it like that”) before shuffling back to their room. Keith ended up accidentally kicking his slippers off a couple of times, still unused to slippers without any sort of back, and eventually just scooped them up in his hand and went barefoot down the hall while Shiro fought back muffled giggles and tried not to wake the other guests.     

Back in their room, Shiro fiddled with the heater in the corner (a strange, circular metal contraption that hissed and glowed cherry-red once he got it going) while Keith vigorously rubbed his towel over his hair in an attempt to get it to dry a little faster.  

“Remind me again what the point of wearing the yukata to and from the baths is, if we’re just going to put on pajamas afterwards?”  Keith asked, hunting around his backpack for a comb.

“Oh, if they give you a yukata, there’s no need to even bring pajamas.”  Shiro explained. “We did because we’re travelling a lot of places, but in most cases people don’t even bring them.”  

“We just wear the yukata to bed?”  Keith checked. The thin cotton would be a little chilly, especially if they couldn’t keep the kerosene stove on all night like Shiro had warned.  

“Yep.  Easy to wear, comfortable, prime Japanese inn aesthetic…” Shiro wiggled his fingers like jazz hands as he slipped into his futon and pulled up the blankets.  

Keith looked at the other futon, where his own backpack was set.  After a moment’s thought, he went to his boyfriend’s side and wiggled his way under the blanket with him.  “Let me in, I’m cold.” It was hard not to pout, in a room this chilly (that kerosene would take a while to heat up the room).  

Shiro laughed and scooted to give him more room.  The futons were meant for one person, but were spacious enough that they could fit two if they didn’t object to being chest to chest.  And Shiro and Keith did not object to that whatsoever. Shiro wrapped his arms around Keith, who laid half on top of him, a leg thrown between Shiro’s where it was warmer.

The fluffy, down-filled blanket over them rustled quietly as Shiro ran his hand up and down the length of Keith’s back.  “Warm enough?”

“Mmhm,” Keith hummed sleepily and nodded, the action letting him nuzzle into Shiro’s chest.  

Shiro chuckled and tilted his boyfriend’s chin up to draw him into a kiss.  “Good night, Keith.”

With the warmth of Shiro’s body beside his and the little cocoon of blanket around them, Keith barely managed to get out his own “good night, love you” before slipping off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~for the sake of my own mind, someone did in fact turn off the kerosene stove before they fell asleep. Or they had one of those fancy ones with the timer that I WISH I had.~~
> 
>  
> 
> BONUS ~~really dumb~~ SCENE (based on a [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yv6shy_9KVM) that I’m pretty sure is only popular in Japan but _damn it, it is a winter MOOD_ )
> 
> Shiro, singing softly: ♪“ _asa, me wo sameru. Futon no naka de okiru…_ ”♪  
> Keith, barely awake: “...what”  
> Shiro: ♪“ _futon wa atatakutte, Keith wa yawarakai_ ”♪  
> Keith: “wait, me? What are you singing?”  
> Shiro: ♪“ _dakedo asa de okinakucha, futon kara dete…_ ”♪  
> Keith: “Shiro I don’t know what you’re saying, can we just go back to sleep--?”  
> Shiro, dropping his voice and whisper-shouting into Keith’s ear: “ _ **SAMUI! SAMUI! SAMUI!**_ ”  
> Keith, now very much awake but still very confused: “........Shiro what the actual fuck”
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! It was fun to write (^_^)  
> You can also find me on [tumblr](http://gold-leeaf.tumblr.com), [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/gold-leeaf), and [twitter](https://twitter.com/GoldLeeaf) (though I am still learning how to use twitter, please be patient with this old man...)


End file.
